


How Did I Get Here?

by gnnyweasleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ginny Weasley-centric, Slytherin Ginny Weasley, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnnyweasleys/pseuds/gnnyweasleys
Summary: Ginny was powerful. Ginny was sneaky. Ginny was ambitious. Ginny was resourceful.Ginny was Slytherin.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley & Weasley Family
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	How Did I Get Here?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the story! Or don't, but I hope my writing satisfies what you were expecting when you clicked on this story.

"But I don't _want_ to wear a dress, mum," Ginny complained, face growing red from arguing back and forth with her mother as she stared at the frilly, pink, _disastrous_ piece of clothing her mother wanted her to wear. "It's _ghastly_."  
  
"You will wear this dress, Ginny, it is your brother's birthday!" her mother said back, not even turning to face Ginny.

"And? Who cares?" Ginny retorted quickly. "I'm sure Ron doesn't, he doesn't care if I wear a dress to his birthday dinner. She turned to face Ron then, "Do you care, Ron?"  
  
Ron's eyes widened, looking from his mother's raised eyebrows to his sister's pointed face and _bloody hell, the resemblance is uncanny!_ He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on, "You'll look nice in the dress, Gin."  
  
Ginny let out a sound of anger. She knew she shouldn't be mad at him, it's not like she would wish her mother's wrath upon somebody, even her annoying prat of a brother, but she had figured their close-age, sibling solidarity would have made him want to swoop in and defend her. _Well, we know which sibling isn't going to be getting sorted into Gryffindor,_ she thought as she glowered at her brother, snatching the dress from where it was draped on a kitchen chair and stormed all the way up to her room, slamming the door, wincing right after because she hated how petulant it was. She plopped herself down on her bed. The dress was hideous, and Ginny couldn't stand pink. It looked awful on her, looked awful against her pale skin and orange-red hair. 

She huffed and laid still, staring at the dress at the end of her bed, letting herself get lost in her thoughts (they all were along the lines of _stupid_ _Ron_ and _stupid dress_ ). 

Her head whipped up as the sound of a knock came from her door. She hopped off her bed and opened it, her face lighting up as soon as she saw it was Bill. She crushed him in a hug, letting out a cry of joy as he laughed and picked her up, resting her against his torso as he held her.

"Hi, Gin."  
  
"When did you get here?" she asked, not knowing how long she had been in her room pouting for.

"Maybe three minutes ago, I said hi to mum and came to see my favorite sister first," he said, a proud smile upon his face. Ginny giggled, shaking her head.

"I'm your only sister, you're silly!" Bill let out a hearty laugh as she said this, giggles still mixed in with her words.

"Oh I must've forgotten," he said, widening his eyes in a serious manner, "I was counting the ghoul in the attic!" This only caused Ginny to laugh even more. He let her down, and she let out a whine of protest.  
  
"Hey, I have to go say hello to the rest of my siblings gin-bug," he said, ruffling her hair. She swatted him away and rolled her eyes. 

He leaned down to her level, bringing her closer as he whispered in her ear, "Now don't go around telling anyone this, but you are my favorite sibling." He smiled when she smiled, turning to walk back down the stairs before calling out her name once more. When he met her eyes, he finally spoke.

"You look good in pink, wear it for me." He walked down a few steps before adding in a whisper, "Don't get mum more upset."  
  
Ginny watched him retreat down the stairs and when he disappeared from view she went back into her room. She supposed that should've helped her, that she should've sucked it up and taken the compliment and done what she was told, but Ginny Weasley hated doing what she was told and she only resented the pink dress even more.

When her mum called her down for dinner that night, she showed up in pajamas, and her mother just about lost it. Ginny sat down calmly at the dinner table, looking innocently up at her mother. Bill sighed, and she could sense the hint of amusement within the breath, and she heard Percy make a _tsk_ sound, shaking his head in disapproval. 

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," her mother said, low and quiet, "I was under the impression that we had an agreement, and that I would get to see my daughter in the nice, pretty dress I picked out for her."  
  
"Well," Ginny meeting her mother's squinted eyes, "I thought the dress was hideous."  
  
Her mother yelled. Ginny was used to her mother yelling over stupid things, she always had, always found a reason to find something negative in whatever her daughter did.

Ginny was powerful, power- _hungry._ She felt something bubble inside her, some sort of emotion that mixed in with her anger and satisfaction and suddenly the mashed potatoes were exploding everywhere, coating people's clothes and faces and the walls surrounding them.

Ginny's eyes widened. She looked down at herself to see she was the only one who remained clean. 

_Accidental_ _magic._

"Wicked," the twins said in unison. Ginny remembered her father had told her that her brothers hadn't shown any signs of magic until they were about nine or ten. Ginny was six. She let a small smile make it's way onto her face as she looked up and met Bill's smirk. 

"My bad," she apologized, not sounding apologetic at all as her mother's face glowed red.

* * *

"Why can't I play quidditch with you?" she asked her brothers as she followed them all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest, twisting her face into a pout.

"You're too little, Ginny," Fred said, looking down on her with a face that seemed to be screaming _duh!_

"Yeah," George chimed in. "Plus, wouldn't do good to have a girl play, right Fred?"

"Right," Fred agreed.  
  
And with that they left her and the protests that had died in her throat earlier to an empty kitchen.

She huffed and muttered strings of profanity all the way up the creaky stairs, all the way up to her room. She slammed her door. She winced, like she did every time. _You have_ got _to stop doing that,_ she said in her head, making a mental note and shaking her head. She wanted to play quidditch with them, wanted to be treated like the tough girl she was and not like she was too fragile to partake in anything that didn't involve cooking and knitting.

Bloody _knitting._

She clenched her fists and her jaw, falling down onto her bed and turning to face her wall, angry tears threatening to escape her eyes. She didn't let them come out, didn't let wetness drag down her face. No. She was not going to wallow in self pity. She was going to plan and she was going to persevere.

Ginny was sneaky. Later that night she snuck out, her quiet footsteps taking her down the flights of stairs and past the kitchen and all the way outside. Her feet carried her to the broom shed, and she picked out the smallest broom she saw, the one Ron used to use that the twins used to use that Charlie used to use that Bill used to use. The one Ginny was now going to use.

And so she used it, the moonlight lighting up her face and the late-night wind tugging her hair away from her face as she shakily took off from the ground, circling around the field only a few feet from the grass, careful to not let herself go too far high. She paced, practiced, and got steady. The next day her mother had to wake her up from her deep slumber, aches entering her body as soon as she returned to the conscious world, but she didn't mind. She smiled as her legs were stiff and sore and pained as she made her way downstairs for breakfast.

She decided she liked the ache in her muscles.

* * *

Ginny stood on platform 9 and 3/4 as she wished Percy, Fred, George, and now Ron a farewell.

She felt a pang in her heart, wishing nothing more than to be joining them on the train to Hogwarts, to be wishing her parents a farewell instead of her brothers as she was off to a place she had only heard stories about. 

"Only one more year, gin-bug," her dad said, placing a hand on her shoulder, somehow sensing her feeling of wistfulness as she stared at the now-moving train. "Only one more year."  
  
And within that year she grew, mentally most of all. 

She got sneakier. She was the only one left in the house with her parents, and her old tricks she used to use to get away with things didn't work anymore as her mother had more time on her hands. So Ginny had to relearn everything, relearn how to make her away around her mother's knowledge and relearn how to convince her mother she was being as good as she could be.

Every night when her mother went to sleep, Ginny made her way downstairs, moving fast, faster than she used to. You would've thought she'd make noise but she never did, made her way around it. She started to thank Fred and George for her sneakiness in her head, but she stopped herself. Everything she had learned she had learned _herself,_ had _taught_ herself. She lived up to her own expectations and she pushed past her brothers' teasing and made way for herself. She was her own version of excellence and determination, and no matter how many times her brothers' had called her brave for her defiance at every little thing her mother told her to do, she couldn't help the nagging voice in the back of her head that kept saying, _not brave, it wasn't brave, it was fierce but not in the brave way. Needed, needed in order for your mother to stop treating you like she can control you._ The one thing Ginny hated most in this world was being controlled, not being able to be the leader.

Ginny was ambitious. Her broom pressed against her leg as her long hair swirled in the wind, and all her muscles were screaming out for her to take a damn break and just come back out tomorrow evening. She had been out flying in the field for 6 hours now, the sun was rising and her mother would be up in an hour or two, surely. But she was so close to catching the snitch, and she couldn't stop even if she tried. There was a strong sense of determination vibrating beneath her skin. She whirled around, biting down on her lip so hard she tasted blood but she kept pushing and pushing and pushing until she saw a flutter of gold just ahead. She dove, twisting and pulling her broom, her hand reaching out.

She held the snitch in her hand a second longer as she was packing up and putting everything back into the broom shed. She turned the gold, rough material over in her hand as she examined it. While she admired the snitch, she also admired her own dedication, taking pride in herself. It was then she decided she wanted to be a professional quidditch player.

Her dreams were filled with crowds roaring her name as she soared around a quidditch pitch that night.

She worked hard the next day, and everyday following that one, living up and exceeding at whatever chore her mother threw at her. She degnomed the garden, she helped prepare meals, helped do laundry, do the dishes, clean the house. Ginny found she rather liked having a purpose, no matter the size of the task given to her. She liked being able to look at her work and feel the satisfaction course through her while she wiped her hands clean on her shorts. When it got too hot outside to do chores, she didn't complain, she only wore lighter clothes and continued on without complaining. Complaining got you no where, she had learned. She had been trying to train herself to not get mad at certain outcomes she hated, using her force of will to not throw fits. She was learning.

"You cannot control what happens to you," Bill had said to her in her years of growing up.

Ginny was resourceful. She made her way around obstacles even when things seemed like they wouldn't turn out like she wanted them to. She learned that even if things didn't turn out the way she was hoping, it was finished nevertheless, finished because of her mind and her way of being able to push forward and find a way to do things even if they seemed impossible. She liked that about herself.

Her confidence in her mental capacity, in her _power_ , had raised highly. She was liking the idea of the future of her outcome, liking who she was becoming.

Her biggest fear was being forgotten. Having six brothers to live up to, she ached to be something more than be their shadow. She ached to be great, be remembered. She was starting to become aware that this wasn't all impossible, and that thought alone pushed her forwards even more, allowing her to contentedly live her days.

When Ginny wasn't doing chores or flying in the late night sky, she was studying. She had propped herself up on Percy's bed for hours, reading the various textbooks he had left behind on his bookshelf, flipping the pages as she took in the information. When she had trouble comprehending something, she made note of it, making sure it wouldn't go forgotten and so she could come back and relearn it once she was able to better soak in the words on the page. She wasn't just reading, she was absorbing, getting lost in the words and concepts as her understanding of things from goblins to different hexes grew larger and larger. She studied in all her free time, pushing herself all the way to fourth year level information. She pushed and pushed and retained all the information she could until she felt like she was going to explode. 

Her mother took pride in her daughter, congratulating her and smothering her and Ginny didn't mind, liking the attention, knowing it was something she did and not something her brothers' helped her do. It was all the more rewarding. She wasn't a shadow, she was becoming her own person and was being recognized for it and Ginny was _glowing_ these days.

Then her brothers returned from Hogwarts. She went back to being a shadow.

She couldn't control what happened to her but _Merlin_ she wished she could.

She still worked just as hard, if not harder, and the determination was there and the need to prove herself was ever present. Her mother didn't give her daughter any praise, though. She still fussed, but fussed in the way that made Ginny feel like she was three years old and not ten. She let her mother pinch her cheeks, let her brush her hair. It didn't erase the disappointment that sat still inside Ginny. Her brothers took up all her mum's praise, especially Ron who had been "so brave and so strong" and Ginny contorted her face into an expression of disgust as her mother kissed his cheeks all the time, praised him, never shut up about how proud he had made her. Ginny didn't like to say she was jealous, and she wasn't sure if she really was. She wanted to be recognized, wanted to go through an experience as big as her brother Ronald did and be able to be _seen._

The hum in her bones never left, though, and she felt with great determination that she would be someone someday, that she would pass up her brother and be just as big of a star in her mum's eyes as he was.

Someday.

When her Hogwarts letter came, she didn't even bother containing her excitement, practically about to burst as she ran her fingers over the wax seal. "Finally," she muttered. Ginny wasted no time on nagging her mother, asking her all sorts of questions.

"When can we go get my books?"

"Will I be getting new robes?" (Though she knew the answer to this one).

"Can I get an owl?" (She knew the answer to this one too).

"Do you think I'll be a Gryffindor?" (She was sure she knew the answer to this one as well, it seemed like a pretty obvious yes to her).

"What if I don't make any friends?"

"Do you think Ron will hang out with me?"  
  
"Ginevra!" her mother finally said, letting out a huff of exasperation as she threw her hands up in the air. "Why don't you go ask your brothers?"

Ginny nodded eagerly, skipping off to harass her brothers with her curiosity instead of her mother. Bill had always told her she was inquisitive. 

And now she stood in her room, looking over her new school supplies her mother and her had just gone out to get. She flipped through the books, emptying out the contents of her cauldron when a diary fell out from the bottom. It was old, but it was pristine and in good condition. She bent over and picked it up, examining it. She felt a familiar hum in her bones and she couldn't describe the feeling the diary brought with it. When she picked it up, she decided on _safe._

Flipping open the pages, a warm sensation overcame her. Ginny was drawn in, the diary making her crave more of it even if she couldn't quite understand nor place the feelings it delivered. She reached over to her desk and picked up a quill, dipping it in jet black ink before messily scribbling something out at the top of the page.

_Dear diary,_

_My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley._

To her shock the words slowly sunk into the page, disappearing. She flipping the page, looking to see where the ink had sunk away to. Horror made its way into her when she flipped the page back, as new words were written neatly across where hers previously lay.

_Hello, Ginevra._

She let out a small whimper, surprise etching it's way onto her features.

 _Who are you?_ she wrote. 

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._

"Tom," she said aloud, letting the one-syllable name roll off her tongue. She liked the way it sounded as it slipped past her lips. She dipped her quill into the ink again.

_Nice to meet you, Tom._

* * *

Ginny stood on platform 9 and 3/4 as she wished her parents a farewell.

She smiled into her mum's blouse as she squeezed her tight, soft words exchanged between the mother and the daughter as her siblings rolled their eyes. As much as her mom tested her, she was going to miss her. She hugged her dad, holding back a flinch as the train horn blew loudly. She began to walk towards the train with her brothers, Percy dragging her luggage along with him and his own. She looked back and smiled widely at her parents before running to catch up to her brothers. She was hoping to sit with Ron, but couldn't find him, so she instead followed Fred and George, who looked at her like she was crazy for having the though that they were going to stick by her.

 _What great brothers I have,_ she thought as she pushed past the people crowding the train, looking for an empty compartment.

The Great Hall was even more nerve wracking than the Hogwarts Express. 

She found herself wringing her hands together, standing at the end of the line of first years who were eagerly waiting to get sorted. She was trying her hardest to pull herself together, to not bounce back and forth on her heels. She was also trying her hardest to not whip out her diary and allow her new companion, her new friend to soothe her worries.

 _You can call us friends Ginny,_ Tom wrote to her two nights ago. _That's what we are, unless you don't want to be friends..._

_Of course I wan't to be friends, Tom!_

"Lovegood, Luna."

Ginny looked up at her dreamy friend, watched as she gracefully sat down on the stool, allowing the hat to be placed atop her blonde waves. She looked around the Great Hall, so unfazed at the hundreds of eyes on her, and Ginny isn't sure how she does it, how she carries herself so carelessly. It's admirable. She wasn't shocked at Luna's sorting in Ravenclaw, it suited her, and Ginny internally wished the best for her childhood friend as she held a soft smile on her face.

She went back to wringing her hands.

"Weasley, Ginny."

Ginny practically choked on her own spit, the unexpected call of her name startling her. She shakily made her way up to the stool, placing herself upon it and almost wincing when the heavy weight of the Sorting Hat made contact with her head.

"Mmm, another Weasley..." The sudden voice in her head almost made her jump, and her knuckles gripped tighter onto the edge of the stool she sat on. "Haven't had anything but a Gryffindor in ages, eh?" The hat hummed in agreement with itself. "I suppose that would be the obvious choice, lots of bravery lurking in you, lots of courage."

Ginny just wanted him to get on with it and put her in the house that was clad with burgundy and gold already. 

"Like I said, that's the obvious choice. You don't seem like one to go with the obvious route, the easy route. No, no, that wouldn't do you good. You would be forgotten, tossed aside. Just another Weasley getting sorted into the house that seems to rule the family. That's not what you want, is it? To be forgotten?" Her stomach flopped, she felt nauseous because oh Merlin, oh _Merlin_ she couldn't be anything but Gryffindor, Gryffindor was the Weasley legacy. What would her brothers think? What would her mum think? Her stomach churned some more.

 _I have to be Gryffindor!_ Ginny thought, knowing the hat would hear. _I have to! Gryffindor is all I know, it's all my family knows._

"Hush, just for a moment Ginevra, let me think..."

She was quiet, her lips pressing together as she looked onto the confused faces of her classmates, all of them looking like they don't know why her sorting was taking so long. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks, the crimson color coating her neck and above, wishing more than ever that she could have Luna's carelessness right then.

"You're very bright, wisdom seems to come easily to you. You read all your brother's books with ease, you can comprehend. Creativity comes naturally to you, you could do great things in Ravenclaw, you _would_ do great things in Ravenclaw, perhaps that is the house for you... _no_ , no. Maybe Hufflepuff. You're loyal, that's obvious, you put family first... but that house would not help you do great things, no it would not. It would be simply a house, and that is not what would serve you well."

It was silent in her head for a moment before her thoughts were erupted with the voice again.

"You're sneaky, even more sneaky than your brothers, and you brought that about yourself... you have goals, you have plans, very ambitious and that weaves in well with how goal-oriented you are. You could do great things in this house, Ginevra. You could persevere. You already have persevered, you have determination, and like I said, _ambition,_ it's all right here. Great things are waiting for you, waiting for you to reach out and grab it and _you're almost there._ You want to be seen, you want to be heard and there is so much potential already lying here, Ginevra, and this seems to be where you belong, this is going to help you do great things, Ginevra..."

And to Ginny's absolute horror, the Sorting Hat shouted out for the whole hall to hear:

"SLYTHERIN!"  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for any spelling errors, I looked over this a couple times but it's always possible that I may have missed something.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated :)


End file.
